Nighttime in the Apollo Cabin
by Coralsolstice
Summary: The Athena cabin called it nyctophobia. They called it being lost.
1. Chapter 1

**This is set a few days after the Battle of The Labyrinth. It's got not actual plot, but Apollo being a good daddy is a personal weakness of mine, and I'm hoping it's the same for you. So, enjoy!**

**Please review if you liked it. Thank you for reading!**

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Silence.

The whole Camp was still, hush, tranquil. Not a single soul outside. The air was cold and damp, the skies overcast. All were in their cabins, snuggled into their blankets, warm in their beds. The distant sound of rain outside the borders provided a comforting lullaby to the campers.

Peacefully they slept, feeling accomplished and secure after the battle.

All except the Apollo cabin.

Five souls stayed up, unable to sleep. They stared outside through curtained windows, seeing but not really noticing the fuzzy, moonlit shadows. What would have been serene and soothing to most anyone else was bleak and cutting to them.

They were the children of the sun. The sun was passion, life. This cold moon was lifeless. Frosty. They had never appreciated the night. But Lee had always been there to make it a little warmer.

The others seemed to have moved on. To them, Lee was just in the background. They knew him, knew him well, even. But he'd never had an impact on their lives. Just the head counsellor from cabin seven. He'd tell them it was all right, that the darkness was not to be feared. The darkness would not find its way into their home. It wasn't an enemy. For light to be significant, darkness had to exist.

But he couldn't say that any more. He couldn't say anything any more. Because he'd been claimed by the darkness of Hades' realm. Didn't that mean that darkness had to be feared?

Nyctophobia, the Athena cabin called it. The fear of the dark. The Apollo cabin didn't know about that, but they feared the unknown. They feared what was hiding, unseen. They feared the monsters that could take away what they cared about.

They feared loss.

Because the sun only gave, it never took. It gave warmth, energy. It gave the world a soul.

And so they sat. Mute and vigilant, standing guard lest the darkness came and stole again.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the Camp noticed, of course. They saw the bags under cabin 7's eyes. Their languished movements. The hollowness of their eyes, and the disinterest in their speech. Cabin 7, the life of Camp, lacked their vitality, their enthusiasm.

Their arrows went astray. They cut themselves during arts and crafts and didn't bother going to a healer. They stood down even when the Ares cabin picked on them. The taunts of 'sunshine' were horribly inaccurate now. There was no light left in their eyes.

They ate little, or none at all. And at night, everyone heard the gentle strum of guitar strings, mournful notes rising into the sky, merging with the other sounds of the night. Nobody asked what was wrong. They knew. And at the same time, they didn't.

Because they didn't fear the dark. They didn't rely on the light. They weren't dependent on the brilliance of the sun.

They slept at the oddest places, at the oddest times. Will was in the stables, curled up in the fresh hay. Michael was under the cabin's table in the dining pavilion. Nobody wanted to wake him up. Austin had dozed off on the porch of the big house. Nobody wanted to ask him how he'd gotten there. Little Kayla was found on the beach, a battered teddy bear clutched protectively in her thin arms. The tear tracks were plainly visible on her face.

The gods had noticed, of course. Not the Apollo cabin's sorrow, no. They'd noticed the lack of tributes. And they were annoyed. They confronted Apollo. He was the father of these children. He was responsible for them, more or less.

He hadn't noticed their melancholy. Because not one had asked him for help. What could he do? He couldn't reach into Hades' realm and pull their brother, their courage back. He couldn't make the sun blaze through the night. What else did they really want?

That pained their father. He felt the same affection any mortal did to his children. He wanted so badly to comfort them, to light their sleeping hours. To protect them, even if it was from their own minds. But he couldn't, and there was no use thinking of it any further. However, he'd persisted. He'd thought hard, long. He'd thought until it was time for the sun to come up, and then again when the sun had set.

And finally, at long last; he knew what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Outside, darkness reigned, her icy tendrils wrapping around anything that dared exist. The misty air, perfumed with the smell of damp earth hung heavy, threatening to engulf any who ventured outside. It crept around the cabin, as if looking for a way in.

But tonight, the Apollo cabin slept. They slept better than they had for days. Their faces were calm, innocent. The tranquil position of their resting bodies gave no indication of the battles they'd seen, the horrors they'd lived through.

Will saw his mother in his dreams. He imagined that the warming comfort of his thick blankets was her loving hug. He sighed contentedly, for once not afraid. For once, safe.

Michael had always been plagued by dreams of falling. Falling and being unable to scream. Just watching as the ground grew closer and closer. Tonight, he was in a meadow. He watched pegasi fly through the clouds, weaving and spinning through the cotton-like masses. There was nothing to fear.

Kayla clutched her much-abused, much-loved bear so tightly the stuffing in its throat was in danger of spilling. But she wasn't scared, oh no. She was happy, unbelievably so. She was at ease, her young mind unburdened. The bear was her companion, and she felt safest when he was around. Because tonight, she only had fears the bear could fight for her.

Austin slept with his favourite book under his pillow. He'd finally been able to read it again. Lee had given it to him, on his first night at Camp. He'd been terrified, completely lost. His brother had given him the present to take his mind off things. And it had worked. But it wasn't the book; it was the ghost of the memory. The memory of being wanted and loved.

They weren't disregarding the darkness, far from it. They were still afraid. But every time one of them cracked open an eye and looked, there was no black.

For in the corner glowed a tiny night light, fashioned in the shape of a cartoon sun. Its petal like edges burned yellow, its middle orange. Every time they looked, every time they feared, this little sun reassured them, illuminating the dark night with its beautiful shine.


End file.
